Much: Cooking the Goose
by ebbtide
Summary: Much lets his pride get him into a lot of trouble. Oh yeah, and there's a goose in the mix.


Much: Cooking the Goose

BY Ebbtide

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Much...lol. Seriously. Don't sue me, 'cause I'm just a writer having fun with someone else's copyrighted toys. Feel free to contact me and I will take them down if you really, really, really want me to.

The man ran a hand through his red hair in aggravation. He sighed loudly and sat down on a wooden log that had been converted into a bench by necessity. The gang was sitting in various places around the camp's small fire. It was more smoke than flame, and Much looked down at it in despair.

"I'm starving." Much announced to the world in general.

No one acknowledged this common outburst at first, not even Robin looked away from the arrow he was repairing.

"You had lunch less than an hour ago, Much." The expert marksman pointed out.

"Ate most of it, as I recall." Little John added.

"Tried to take a piece of me own, as well!" Allan A Dale commented in outrage from his position on the far side of the camp.

Much held his hands up in surrender at this flood of accusations. He sighed again and with a pitying look towards his master, he stood.

"Well, I guess, I'll just have to go out and find something to eat. If you lot care to join me, we might yet get enough for a proper feast." At the word feast, his blue eyes lit up in expectation.

Robin stood as well and sighted down his newly straightened arrow. "Take someone with you, Much." He ordered. "We do want to have dinner in a couple of hours, wouldn't do to have just one hunter, now would it?"

Allan A Dale jumped to his feet at this. "I'll go. I'm not trying to be funny, but I actually _want_ to eat tonight. If we let Much go all alone, we might _never_ get food."

Much emitted a strangled sound at this exaggerated insult to his food acquiring skills. He squared his shoulders, slid his sword into its hip scabbard and picked up a bow and several arrows.

"Here, take this." Robin called suddenly.

There was a _whoosh_ of air, and the new arrow quivered less than an inch in front of Much's nose, sticking out of a young tree. Much swallowed.

"Thanks, master." He said unsteadily.

Even after years of service under the perfect marksman, he still found himself amazed by the archery prowess of Robin Hood. Once again, he felt himself filled with a feeling of relief that he was not one of Robin's enemies.

"Be back soon." Much pronounced as he topped a small hill.

Then the camp was lost from site and Much saw Allan A Dale migrate slowly to their left and more forward. He ignored every attempt at conversation. This slight wounded Much's sensitive pride and he decided then and there that he would show everyone that Much was not a man to be insulted and laughed at. He flushed at the memories of the whole camp making fun of him. He ground his teeth together painfully and stopped walking.

Allan A Dale did not notice that his companion had fallen back, and Much waited until he was out of site and the started off in another direction. He was going to find, capture and cook the best meal that Robin had ever experienced in their new forest home. And thus prove, that he was not as incompetent as everyone assumed.

Head held high, and bow at the ready, the red haired man marched into the forest.

Six hours later, after hardship and hunger had been endured for his fellow man, Much found himself in possession of a goose. A single goose, but he knew that it would be enough for Robin Hood. He just hoped that Allan A Dale had killed enough game for the rest of the men. Robin would never eat if it meant his men would not.

"Lets get you cooked up good." Much said to the dead goose.

Wanting to be able to present his meal to Robin already cooked and seasoned, Much decided to build the fire right there and then bring it in to camp when it was done. He quickly started the fire and went to work on the dead bird.

Once it was safely attached to a piece of wood that sat over the fire, so that he could turn it as it cooked, Much went off to find some herbs that he had seen a few days earlier while on a trek through that area of Sherwood Forest. It took him a little longer than he thought it would to find the necessary ingredients; then he headed back to the fire.

Dry leaves and small branches crunched under his weight as he approached the fire. Suddenly, two of the Sheriff's men jumped out from behind a bush where they had been waiting. Unprepared, Much didn't even have to time to drop his herbs and snatched up his sword before he felt something hard impact the back of his head. He fell to the ground, just able to make out a third man through the haze that filled his mind. Everything was tinged with gray and he knew that he would black out.

"I'm a dead man." He said.

"No doubt, once the Sheriff gets to you." One of the men announced as he knelt over the fire and plucked up the perfectly cooked goose. Much winced and closed his eyes; unable to watch them share the meal he had so lovingly prepared for his master. Seconds later, his body slumped into unconsciousness.

"This is some of the best goose I ever had." One of the men commented as he took a bite out of the tender, juicy fowl. "Good thing we saw the smoke from his fire."

The others nodded in agreement as they greedily tore a wing and leg off the goose.

Robin Hood took another bite of poorly cooked deer steak and wondered for the umpteenth time what had happened to his friend.

"Probably got hi'self lost. It is a big forest." Allan A Dale said through his own mouthful of food.

Robin nodded. "Probably." He repeated.

He had a bad feeling that something terrible had happened to his best friend.

"I'm going to Loxley, to see if they've heard anything." Robin decided aloud. He pointed to Allan. "You, go back out there and look for him - and take Will. Little John, I need you to stay here incase he comes back. The rest of you, come with me."

Djaq stood, ready to go and the rest followed her lead. Robin pierced Allan with an intense look.

"Check everywhere. I don't care how long it takes you, Much is out there somewhere."

Allan nodded in understanding.

Much groaned as he regained consciousness and all of the pain that went along with it.

"Ah." He groaned again. "Did anyone catch the cart number?" He joked.

"Cart number?" The dungeon master asked from outside the door. "This one's lost it, he has."

"No, I meant the number of carts. Ye gods, my head hurts!"

"Well it should." The dungeon master said with a shake of his fist. "And there's more pain where that came from. Just you wait until the Sheriff lets me in there."

Much lay back on the dirty stone floor, bits of damp straw clung to his red hair. He felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. He knew that Robin would find a way to rescue him, but the fact that he needed rescuing was what bothered him. He had started out that day to prove he could do something right. Now the Sheriff's dungeon master was taunting him.

"I cooked the goose." He insisted to the air above him. It seemed so unfair that the others hadn't seen it. Robin hadn't seen it.

"You cooked your goose, huh?" The dungeon master snorted. "Sure you did. You're a right lunatic, you are."

Much rolled on his side, his back to the barred door. He ignored the other man.

Robin Hood watched from Loxley's forested outer edge as life went on normally in the little village. Nothing seemed to indicate that his friend had been through that way. He hesitated to walk in on such a fine afternoon, wherever he went danger and general upset was soon to follow. Luckily, he did not need to - at that moment Allan A Dale appeared from their right. He was out of breath and frantically gesturing over his shoulder.

"Much...fire... struggle...hoof prints..." The man gasped out. He heaved in a deep breath. "The Sheriff's men got him."

Robin Hood felt his heart sink at this dire news. Anyone associated with him and his men were hanged without trial. At that moment, he knew that Much was in the dungeons at Nottingham, waiting for a rescue. He _had_ been waiting.

"Come, we must hurry." Robin said.

The others followed him as he ran full-speed towards Nottingham.

"You're going to hang, outlaw." The Sheriff said with a delighted gleam in his dark eyes.

Much kept his head downcast, he didn't need to look, he could feel the Sheriff lazily circling around him. A cold hand trailed across his back and the red haired man shivered at the intrusive touch. He hated the Sheriff.

"I won't tell you anything." He announced bravely, his eyes still downcast.

"Oh, no, I didn't think you would. Robin will...when he comes to rescue you, and I capture him."

Much felt a spike of fear shoot through him. Robin couldn't die saving him - he just couldn't!

"You're lying." Much denied shakily. "You're lying." He repeated with less intensity.

_You have got to be_, he thought. _ Robin will sense the trap, he always does. _This succeeded in strengthening his resolve and he straightened, his eyes seeking out those of the Sheriff.

"Robin will save me." He said with absolute certainty.

The Sheriff laughed gaily. "What, and make me miss my evening sport? I think not." The man turned and strode out of the cell.

"Make him scream." The Sheriff said over his shoulder to the dungeon master, then he disappeared up the stairs.

Much tensed when the dungeon master entered the cell smiling. _God, please send Robin soon_, he prayed with a swift glance heavenward.

Robin looked up from the pair of guards he had just incapacitated. A scream of pain had sounded from the dungeons.

"Much!" He whispered fiercely.

Fumbling with the guard's key, Djaq opened the heavy wooden door and Robin sprinted down the stone steps. He could see the dungeon master standing over his friend in the first cell.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Much's scream split the air as one of his legs was broken with an echoed **_crack_**.

Robin notched an arrow into his bow and pointed it at the dungeon master. "Step back! Step back!" He yelled.

The dungeon master slowly backed away, throwing his torture device to the ground as he did so. It _clanged _hollowly on the hard stone floor.

Much looked over at his rescuers, tears of relief pooling in his eyes. "Robin, you - you came." He said through the pain.

Robin was at his side in an instant, the others covering the guards to stop them from calling for help. Hood cradled his friend in his arms, pulling him in for a long held hug before finally settling back to take in all of his friend's injuries.

"What have they done to you?" He breathed in disbelief as he saw blood spreading across Much's shirt and knee.

A long, deep cut ran across his face from above his left eye to below his right ear.

Much felt his throat tighten when he was helped to his feet. So many emotions were playing through him at that one moment, he almost couldn't get his legs to walk forward.

"I'll get you out of here, friend." Robin promised from somewhere to his right.

"I knew you would." Much responded through his tears. His chest tightened painfully and he gasped. "Please, get me out of here."

The rest of the journey was a blur to the man, he only knew a sense of peace as his friends protected him and escaped with him from under the nose of the tyrant Sheriff. He must have blacked out at some point, because the next thing he knew they were back at their camp. The smell of undercooked meat drifted past him when they carried him over to a sleeping place.

"Much! What happened?" Little John demanded.

Much couldn't see the man from his position on the ground, but he felt the concern in the deep voice. He smiled a little.

"Just a goose." Much answered lightly.

Through his newly acquired pain, Much saw a family that he should have recognized long ago. His smile widened and he relaxed back, letting his eyes drift shut. They would keep him safe.

"Just a goose."

THE END. 


End file.
